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<title>A Child Of Sorrow For My Joy by Merixcil</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25205602">A Child Of Sorrow For My Joy</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merixcil/pseuds/Merixcil'>Merixcil</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Advent Fics 2018 [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>BoJack Horseman</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Rehabilitation, Sobriety</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2018-12-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2018-12-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:34:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>492</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25205602</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merixcil/pseuds/Merixcil</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Bojack attempts Christmas sober</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Advent Fics 2018 [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1824643</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Child Of Sorrow For My Joy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Christmas in rehab sucked. Which was weird because most of the staff had gone home for the day. The laws of probability asserted that this should have been a somewhat less sucky day than all the other days Bojack had spent in this dump, given that fewer doctors around meant fewer people encouraging him to waste his time in group therapy or running along the beach because <em>that’s what horses do</em>, apparently. But if anything he was having a worse time than ever. </p><p>Maybe it was all the singing, no one would stop singing. Luckily they didn’t expect him to join in, he’d had more than enough time to set the record straight when it came to him doing anything in units of more than one, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t still hear it. Curled up in his room, swirling his glass and trying desperately to believe that the golden liquid at the bottom of it was whiskey and not just apple juice. </p><p>I mean, it was probably the whole sobriety thing that was driving Bojack up the walls. Hand on his heart, he couldn’t remember the past three Christmases and his memories of the previous five could broadly be summed up by ‘puking in the pool while crying because his mother didn’t get him a present’. </p><p>Or if she did get him a present it sucked. That happened too. </p><p>Gritting his teeth, Bojack stood up from his bed and made for the door, letting it fly open before he could psych himself out over what he was trying to do. Christmas. People. Sociable activities. Turkey, apparently, though he used to date a very nice girl who was a turkey and he’d never been able to eat the stuff since. </p><p>In the living room, most of the other patients who decided they didn’t want to check out over the holidays were gathered around the fire, the TV muted in the background. They bumbled their way through Hark The Herald Angels Sing, everyone smiling at each other like it was a funny joke and not an assault on their ears when they missed the high notes. </p><p>God, Bojack wanted a drink. He’d probably have to talk about that in group therapy later. </p><p>“Bojack!” Marjory, a nice house cat approximately ten years his senior and deeply unfuckable waved him over. “Come join us. You know the words?”</p><p>Unfortunately for Bojack, he had been dragged along to church enough times by his mother that he did. He settled in next to Marjory and tried to sing while actively singing as little as possible. A crib was set up just next to the Christmas tree, for those residents who picked Jesus as their higher power. The little shit was sat there in his manger, smiling at them all with a magnanimous glory that neither moved not appealed to Bojack. </p><p>But hey, at least the kid was happy. This day was all about him, after all.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This work was originally posted as part of a multi chaptered 'advent fics' fic that I'm trying to split up. If you think you've read it before, you probably have</p></blockquote></div></div>
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